Episode 37 VS 7 Point 5: Season 3 Shorts
by Voyager Season 7.5
Summary: Four short stories. Helping Hands: B'Elanna discovers that a village does help with child rearing. Something to Remember: Naomi visits the Cochrane Museum of Spaceflight with her friends Icheb and Griff. Vissi d'Arte: Mark Zimmerman is looking forward to playing golf on Holodeck 2. Traditions: Seven and Axum celebrate Christmas.
1. Helping Hands Part 1

**Helping Hands  
****Author: Rocky****  
**

_Time frame: 2 months into the journey to the DQ _

_Many thanks to the VVS7.5 staff for their assistance with this story._

_Spoiler: B'Elanna discovers that a village can help raise a child._

* * *

B'Elanna took a sip from her cup, barely noticing her coffee had long since gone cold, and frowned at the engineering report. Those numbers didn't look right at all; she made a mental note to tell Lieutenant Percy, the engineer in charge of Gamma Shift, to run the diagnostic on the matter-anti-matter flow once more, this time making sure to pay attention to deviations-

"Mama, is it time yet?" said a high-pitched voice at her elbow, effectively breaking her chain of concentration.

B'Elanna bit back a sigh and looked at her daughter, who gazed back expectantly. "No, Miral, it's not." She returned her attention to her report.

"But I wanna go to the holodeck! You promised!"

"It's still too early," B'Elanna said, trying to be patient. "I'll tell you when it's time. Now, I just need a few more minutes to finish up my work, so why don't you go and play with your puzzles in the meantime?"

Miral stuck out her lower lip. "I don't wanna play! I wanna go to the holodeck!"

"And we will, honey, I promise. Just not yet." B'Elanna picked up her PADD, hoping to forestall any further discussion.

"When?"

Mentally counting to ten, B'Elanna said, "When I finish my work. Miral, take your stuffed targ and go to your room-"

"I wanna stay with you," Miral said. She leaned her head against B'Elanna's leg. "Please?"

B'Elanna reached down and affectionately smoothed her daughter's curls. She and Tom usually worked split shifts, trying to find the optimum balance between parenting and carrying out their duties on the ship. Due to some recurring problems in Engineering, however, for the past week she'd only seen Miral after the little girl was in bed for the night. Despite her present annoyance, B'Elanna was very glad to see that Miral had missed her, and she was looking forward to some quality time together as well. "All right, sweeting, you can stay here with me but you have to be a *very* good girl and let me finish my work. OK?"

"OK," Miral said, nodding vigorously. She scrambled onto a nearby chair, her legs dangling over the edge, and folded her hands primly in her lap.

"Good," B'Elanna said, and began perusing the report once more. Ah-there it was, in the second phase of the theta-wave radiation-

"Now, Mama?"

B'Elanna slammed the PADD on the desktop a little harder than she intended. "No, not yet. I'll tell you when it's time to go!" She exhaled sharply and scrolled down past the first set of graphs, looking to see if there was a pattern-

And became aware of a steady thumping noise. "Miral!"

"Yes, Mama?" Miral replied, continuing to swing her legs back and forth.

"Stop kicking the desk."

"OK."

The influx ratio was showing a standard deviation of 0.0047 microns per rotation-

"Now?"

B'Elanna closed her eyes, sighed deeply, and then turned off her PADD. "Yes, Miral, we're going now."

"Yippee!" Miral yelled and started to dash for the door.

"Just a second," B'Elanna said, reaching out and grasping the little girl's arm. "Do you have to go to the bathroom first?"

"No," Miral said, struggling to get free.

"Fine. Let's go." B'Elanna caught sight of the chronometer and shrugged. There was still another fifteen minutes until their reservation began, but being a parent had taught her that sometimes you just had to give in to the inevitable. And maybe, if she could persuade Miral to walk slowly, they wouldn't arrive at the holodeck *too* early.

* * *

B'Elanna's hopes for a leisurely stroll through the ship were instantly dashed. No sooner had the door to their quarters opened, than Miral had broken free of the restraining maternal hand and run down the corridor. "Miral! Wait!"

But the little bundle of energy showed no signs of hearing or even slowing down.

"Kahless, that child!" B'Elanna muttered and took off after her. Fortunately, her own legs were much longer and she was confident she would soon catch up to her. She rounded a corner, and sure enough there was Miral-

-running smack into someone coming from the other direction.

"Miral!"

The little girl literally bounced off and ended up on the floor, where she sat gasping, apparently too stunned to even cry. B'Elanna rushed over, but the officer who had been on the receiving end of the collision had already bent down and scooped Miral up in his arms. "Are you all right, little one?"

"Miral!" B'Elanna exclaimed at the same time. "You know better than to go running down the corridors like that!" She transferred her gaze to the officer, recognizing the stern craggy features of the Klingon Tactical officer. "Lieutenant Ishtak, I'm so sorry-"

Miral stared intently at the man holding her. She reached out and tugged on the dark coarse hair arrayed over his shoulders and touched one of his forehead ridges. "Uncle K'Nar?"

He smiled. "No, little one, my name is Ishtak, son of Gorok, of the House of Klaa. What's your name?"

"Miral Paris," she said proudly. "My mama makes the ship go and my daddy flies it."

"Ah," Ishtak said. "And what do you do?"

Miral looked to her mother for help. B'Elanna said, "The only adult Klingons she's met have been my mother's family-that's probably why she thought you were her uncle." She paused. "I'm sorry she ran into you like that, she's just very excited-"

"We're going to the holodeck," Miral announced. "Mama said we can play Flotter."

"It's a Terran children's program, Flotter and Trevis," B'Elanna explained, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. She didn't really know Lieutenant Ishtak very well; in the two months of their voyage, she'd only exchanged a few words with him outside of ship's business. Not that it was any of his concern, she inexplicably felt compelled to defend her choice of entertainment for her child.

But Ishtak said only, "Yes, I'm familiar with it, Commander. It fosters the imagination and promotes skills of problem-solving." He set Miral on her feet and winked. "It's also a lot of fun."

B'Elanna stared in surprise.

Ishtak straightened up. "I will leave you both to your holodeck adventure. Good afternoon, Commander, Miral."

"Bye," said Miral. She tugged on her mother's hand. "Come on, Mama, let's go."

"Sure," B'Elanna replied, shifting her attention back to her daughter. "The turbolift is just a little bit further on. Do you want to tell the computer which deck to go to?"

"Yes!" Miral said happily, and darted ahead. B'Elanna sighed and followed.

* * *

Two days later, in mid-afternoon, the Paris family entered the Observation Lounge. It was a favorite gathering spot for many of the crew, as its large floor-to-ceiling viewports gave a stunning panorama of space. Although the individual stars could be seen better at regular warp, the distortion effect of the transwarp corridor only added to the experience. Surprisingly, even though Alpha shift had just ended, the lounge was not crowded.

Expecting Miral to head straight for the transparent aluminum and press her nose against it as she always did, B'Elanna was surprised to see her daughter instead veer off to the side. "Miral!"

At the same time, Tom called out, "Where are you going?"

A man with a distinctive profile turned his head at the sound of their voices. "Commander Torres, Commander Paris, Miral," Ishtak said gravely, his tone at odds with the twinkle in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you," B'Elanna said awkwardly.

"Not at all." Ishtak inclined his head graciously toward some nearby chairs. "Please, join me."

"I don't want to impose-" B'Elanna began, but the point was made moot as Miral immediately climbed on Ishtak's lap.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at a silver brooch pinned to his left sleeve.

"It is my sigil, which says what house I belong to."

"Where is your house? Can I go there?"

Ishtak shook his head. "I meant it says what family I belong to."

Miral absorbed this for a moment. Then spying the PADD on the table she said, "Read me a story."

"Why I don't tell you one instead?" Ishtak said, turning off the PADD and moving it to one side. B'Elanna caught a fleeting glimpse of the screen before it went dark; it was a picture of a Klingon woman and two children. "What would you like to hear?"

"Rumpelstilskin."

"I don't know that one very well-how about I tell you another story instead?"

"With a princess?"

"Hmm." Ishtak stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Lukara wasn't exactly a princess, but she came from a fine and noble family." Miral settled back in the crook of his arm, her eyes never leaving his face as he told the tale of the courtship of Kahless and the Lady Lukara, and how they withstood the attack of five hundred warriors at the Great Hall of Qam-Chee. Ishtak was a good storyteller; his deep voice and dramatic gestures added greatly to the power of the story.

Tom raised his eyebrows and whispered, "B'Elanna, do you know this one?"

"I've heard it," she said briefly. At Tom's inquiring glance she added, "My mother once told me it's considered the greatest romance in Klingon history."

"All that blood and fighting, yeah, I can see why a Klingon would think so," Tom said teasingly. B'Elanna blushed as she thought of what Tom had said the time he'd found her reading "The Warrior Women at the River of Blood."

As Ishtak approached the climax of the story, B'Elanna saw with surprise that he had gathered quite an audience. Several others in the room, not just Miral, were listening spellbound to his every word.

"Did they live happily ever after?" Miral wanted to know, after Ishtak had finished.

"They went on to share many more glorious adventures together," said Ishtak. He handed Miral to Tom. "Did you enjoy the story, little one?"

"Yes," Miral said and nodded vigorously. "Tell me more?"

"Another time," Ishtak promised. "If your parents agree, that is."

"Are you kidding?" Tom said. "*I* want to hear another one, too!"

Ishtak threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "We have a deal, then!"

As he turned to leave, B'Elanna touched his arm hesitantly. "You have a real talent for storytelling," she said. Ishtak smiled. She found herself adding, "I haven't heard that story in many, many years, but I don't think I ever heard it told so well."

Ishtak looked as though he understood what she hadn't put into words. "You are very welcome, Commander."

* * *

"I'm trying it now, Captain," B'Elanna said, her hand hovering over one of the main power consoles in Engineering. "Watch for the flicker."

Janeway stood before the panel, watching the readout intently. "Go ahead, Commander." The wave pattern danced over the monitor, and there, in the lower right hand corner, almost too quickly to be seen, there was a definite flicker. "Yes, I see it!"

B'Elanna nodded to the nearby crewman, who immediately shut down the console. "That's what's been causing all those fluctuations."

Janeway shook her head. "This couldn't have been easy to discover. In fact, I'm amazed you were able to do so without knowing precisely what you were looking for."

"We were on the right track all along, thinking it had to do with the theta-wave radiation, but even so it took some doing," B'Elanna agreed. "But we've got it now. There's no doubt about it."

"And now we also know why Odyssey hasn't been experiencing a similar problem."

"I'll send a message to their chief engineer and tell them what to be on the lookout for," B'Elanna said.

"Good. And be sure to tell Geordi that this shows his ship is *not* in any way superior to ours!" Janeway added, a glint in her eye. B'Elanna grinned at the reference to the ongoing 'friendly competition' between the two Starfleet captains.

"I just want to check one more thing, as long as you've got that system off-line." Janeway picked up a hyperspanner from a nearby tool pouch and stepped in front of Delia O'Brien. "Ensign, may I?"

"Yes, ma'am!" said Delia, almost stuttering in her eagerness, as she hurried to get out of the captain's way.

Janeway bent and poked around a little bit in the console's innards, and then straightened up. She handed the tool to Delia and dusted off her hands. "You might want to check the junction on that plasma relay as well."

At B'Elanna's nod, Lieutenant Vorik immediately came over to see to it, as Delia and some of the other engineering crew exchanged surprised glances.

B'Elanna bit back another grin. "Do you have time for a cup of coffee before you have to be back on the bridge, Captain?" she said.

"There's *always* time for coffee," the Captain said immediately. "Especially if you're buying."

As soon as the door to the Chief Engineer's office closed, Janeway permitted herself to chuckle. "Well, you've certainly got them well and truly cowed. Unless it was my presence they were reacting to out there."

B'Elanna handed her a steaming cup of raktajino. "I don't think very many junior officers are used to seeing the captain get her hands dirty," she said diplomatically.

Janeway rolled her eyes. "Just another reminder of how different this tour of duty is from our last."

"When we were spread so thin, everyone got used to pitching in as needed," B'Elanna agreed, leaning back and sipping her own drink. "It's been two months, and I still feel like Engineering is over-crowded every time I walk in."

"It's nice to be adequately staffed," Janeway said with a smile. "I take it everyone is working out all right? No problems?"

B'Elanna sighed. "Nothing you're not aware of already."

Janeway stared. "You're still having problems with Murphy? I thought you'd managed to deal with that."

"As per Tuvok's advice, I've assigned him to details where you wouldn't think he could get into any trouble, but the man's a sheer magnet for bad luck. If something can go wrong, it will just as long as he's nearby," B'Elanna said grimly. "I've thought about partnering him with a more experienced officer so

there is someone to keep an eye on him at all times. But that's a pretty drastic step-singling him out this way-even if we do have the personnel for it."

"Other than the 'accidents', how is the rest of his performance?" Janeway asked, her concern plain to see.

"Tuvok suggested I fill out weekly performance reviews for Ensign 'Lucky.' And it's a good thing, because this way I know that he's not a *completely* unmitigated disaster." B'Elanna sighed again. "He's competent enough, I guess, but it's when he tries to 'impress' and do more than he's supposed to that things tend to go wrong."

"Well, keep him on a short leash," Janeway advised. She put down her empty cup and rose to her feet. "Was there anything else, B'Elanna?"

"No..." B'Elanna hesitated. "Captain, what do you know about Lieutenant Ishtak?"

"Ishtak?" said Janeway. "Why?"

"I was just wondering about him, his background," B'Elanna said quickly. "I mean, there aren't many Klingon officers serving in Starfleet."

"You mean, is he an exchange officer like Lieutenant Auraan?" Janeway asked, her lip curling slightly as she mentioned the Troyian's name. "No, Ishtak is regular Starfleet. His last posting was as Deputy Chief of Security on Starbase Four."

"I see."

Janeway seated herself once more. "As I recall, he did start out in the Imperial Klingon Fleet. He rose rapidly through the ranks, finally becoming a gunner aboard the Pagh, a Vor'cha-class cruiser."

"That's pretty impressive."

"It gets more so. The Pagh, along with two other ships, was destroyed in one of the early battles in the Dominion War-well before the Breen became involved. Most of the crew lost their lives, either when their warp core exploded or when their escape pods were caught in the backwash. Ishtak was in one of the few pods to be recovered, but he was severely injured, not expected to survive."

B'Elanna shook her head. "What happened next?"

"He was picked up by an Oberth-class vessel after drifting for weeks. They brought him to the medical facilities at one of the nearby starbases. He was in a coma for several months, but eventually pulled through. By then, things had gotten pretty bad as far as the war was concerned. Starfleet was desperately short of personnel, there had been so many losses. Even support staff-with no prior combat experience-were being pressed into service. As soon as Ishtak was back on his feet, he volunteered."

"I'm surprised he didn't want to go back to his home, or at least back to the Empire," B'Elanna said.

"His vessel had been destroyed, his squadron decimated," Janeway reminded her. "He himself wasn't entirely healthy. I suppose he felt an obligation to help beat back the Dominion, and figured he was most useful where he was."

"And afterwards, to stay on in Starfleet? What about his family?"

"I really don't know. His personnel file lists him as being 'unattached', which is surprising for a Klingon of his age. Perhaps his family were also lost in the war." Janeway sighed. "That's all I can tell you. If you want to find out more, try asking Tuvok."

"Tuvok?" B'Elanna said, surprised. "Why?"

"I understand they work out together, a few times a week."

B'Elanna's eyebrows rose at this unexpected information. A Vulcan and a Klingon didn't usually gravitate to each other unless they had professional interests in common. "Maybe Tuvok's keeping tabs on his old position," she said, thinking aloud. "It can't be easy, watching someone take over the job you held for so many years."

"No, it isn't," Janeway muttered.

::Sickbay to Janeway::

Janeway tapped her comm badge. "Janeway here. What can I do for you, Doctor Zimmerman?"

::It's 1605. We had an appointment, Captain:: the EMH said, his tone faintly scolding.

Janeway started guiltily. "Yes, Doctor. I assure you I haven't forgotten. I'll be right there."

"Problem?" B'Elanna asked. "I thought by now both he and Dr. Brown had more or less settled their differences."

"They're not clashing as frequently as they used to," Janeway said with another sigh as she rose to her feet. "Ever since the Doctor was 'persuaded' to spend his off-duty time in his quarters or in other parts of the ship instead of breathing down Brown's neck in Sickbay. But this has nothing to do with mediating any 'turf battles'-I'm due for my monthly fertility suppressant."

B'Elanna stirred uneasily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry-"

Janeway quickly said, "Well, as much as I've enjoyed this, I must be on my way. Give Miral a kiss from me."

"I will. You and Chakotay should come by for dinner sometime," B'Elanna said.

"That would be great," Janeway said. "We'd love it."


	2. Helping Hands Part 2

**Helping Hands**

* * *

Tom eased himself into their quarters, limping painfully. "Aaaah," he moaned, as he collapsed on the couch.

"Tom!" said B'Elanna, jumping to her feet, alarmed at his appearance. "What in the world happened to you? Are you injured?"

"Just my pride," Tom said. He rubbed his shoulder and winced. "For the most part."

"But how? What were you doing? I thought you were going to exercise in the gym. Don't tell me you did this lifting weights!"

Tom shook his head. "I didn't end up going there after all. I saw Ishtak on the way. He had a bat'leth with him, said he was going to do some sparring on the holodeck. He asked me if I wanted to join him, and I thought, sure, why not?"

B'Elanna sighed in exasperation. "For one thing, you're out of practice-when's the last time you touched a bat'leth, let alone did any serious moves with one?"

"Yeah, it's been a while, but supposedly you never forget." Tom attempted a smile. "You know the old expression, 'just like fighting with a bat'leth'?"

She sat down beside him and leaned over to examine a particularly colorful bruise on his jaw. "It's 'just like riding a bicycle.' And anyway-"

Tom shied away from her touch. "So anyway, we went in and he ran this training program, the Battle of Three Turn Bridge-"

"I've heard of it," B'Elanna said. "I've even played it, once or twice. It's based on an actual incident in Klingon history."

"That's what Ishtak said."

"It's not exactly a cakewalk, under the best of circumstances. Which level did you play at?" B'Elanna asked.

"Five."

She blanched. "FIVE? Are you crazy? Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

"The safeties were on," Tom protested feebly. "There was no question of *that* happening." He winced again. "Though yeah, I did manage to bang myself up pretty good."

"Have you been to Sickbay yet?"

"No, not yet." He forestalled her protest. "I promise, I'll go soon. Just as soon as I get up the strength to deal with the Doc's telling me off." He brightened. "Or maybe I'll get lucky and Zeke Brown will be on duty instead."

"You're going to have to deal with me telling you off, instead," she said sharply. "After a year away from any sparring whatsoever, you should have known better than to jump straight into a full-blown battle scenario, especially at that level! Tom, I know in the past you were quite proficient, but even at your best I doubt you could have-"

"Yeah, I did think I was pretty good," he said with another groan. "But it didn't take long into the program till I felt like a real amateur. Ishtak was nice about it, though. He asked me several times if I wanted to stop, or take it down a level or two, and I know he deflected at least a few blows that were headed my way."

"He probably didn't expect a Human or someone less than a full-blooded Klingon to be able to show much proficiency in the area of bat'leth fighting," B'Elanna said, her words clipped.

Tom looked at her in surprise. "No, it wasn't like that, Ishtak wasn't at all condescending. Granted, he did look amused, but it must have been pretty funny seeing me knocked flat on my ass like that." Tom flexed his arm cautiously. "On the contrary, Ishtak seemed to approve of the fact that I was displaying an interest."

"For Miral's sake?" B'Elanna asked, unable to keep the scorn out of her tone.

"I don't know, maybe." Tom looked at her for a long moment. "B'Elanna, is there a problem?"

"No," she said as she got up and went over to the desk. Straightening a stack of PADDs, she said, "I just wonder why Ishtak is interested in spending so much time with members of our family. How often has he come by to see Miral this past week? And now inviting you to join his workout?"

"Maybe the guy's lonely," Tom suggested. "I don't know how many friends he's made on Voyager. After all, it's not as if there are other Klingons around." He flashed her a grin. "You could say we're the closest thing."

B'Elanna flushed angrily. "I'm only half-Klingon, and Miral is just a quarter," she retorted, though she knew the Klingon genes predominated in many areas. "Or maybe Ishtak feels honor bound to try to educate us a little better in all things Klingon, because Kahless knows we're all so woefully ignorant."

Tom limped over to her and put his good hand on her chin, tilted it up until she was looking at him. "Now why would you say something like that? B'Elanna?"

She was silent for a long moment. "I don't know, there's just something about him..."

"What?"

"This is going to sound silly, but I get the feeling that Ishtak disapproves of me," she said, a bit shame-faced.

"You're right."

"I am?" she said, surprised. "You think he *does* disapprove of me?"

"No, I think you're being silly." Tom shook his head. "He doesn't know you, so why should he be passing judgment on you? Nothing in his behavior so far has indicated anything of the sort. B'Elanna, from all appearances Ishtak is just a nice, friendly person who enjoys telling stories to our daughter." He paused. "I don't know what's bothering you. Unless it's because they're *Klingon* stories."

"I don't have a problem with that," she insisted. "Look, I wasn't always comfortable with that sort of thing in the past, but now-"

"I didn't think you did-especially not after our trip to your relatives on Qo'noS last year. It's just the way you're reacting-" Tom shifted his weight to his other leg and nearly lost his balance. "Oh, God. I think I tore something. B'Elanna..."

B'Elanna moved quickly to his side, relieved the conversation was over. "We'd better get you to Sickbay."

* * *

Tom came out of Miral's bedroom and carefully closed the door behind him. "I think she's finally asleep," he announced to their guests. "Maybe now we can have a little adult conversation with our meal."

"I don't know how to break it to you, Tom," Janeway said, "but you aren't the reason we were so eager to accept your dinner invitation." Her lips quirked in a smile. "Well, since the main attraction isn't here any more, I guess we can pay some attention to her parents now."

"Gee, thanks," Tom grumbled.

"Oh, sit down and be quiet," B'Elanna said, giving him a look. She passed the salad to her husband. "Chakotay was just telling us about some of the plans he and T'Pel have been making with the other members of their team. It sounds pretty interesting."

"Of course, things are subject to change once we arrive," Chakotay said. "We won't have a complete picture of what we're dealing with until we get to the Delta Quadrant."

"And meet with the Vidiians," Janeway added. She took another sip of wine and then wiped her lips with her napkin. "But we agreed, no discussion of any ship's business tonight."

"At least with a civilian present we won't have to worry that this will turn into a mini-staff meeting," Tom said as he speared a cherry tomato with his fork. Turning to the former first officer, he said, "Seriously, Chakotay, how are you adjusting to no longer being in Starfleet?"

"It's been more than a year since my resignation, Tom," Chakotay pointed out. "So it's not exactly a new experience any more."

"True, but being back on Voyager again is bound to make a difference," Tom argued. "I'm sure it isn't an easy transition."

"Actually," Chakotay said, helping himself to another stuffed mushroom, "there are advantages to not being on duty any longer. For instance, when the comm beeps in the middle of the night, I can safely ignore it."

"Not to mention rolling over and falling back asleep when there's a red alert," added Janeway with a smile as she patted her husband's hand. "Though you'd think you could show at least a *little* concern..."

"I know that you and Tuvok will have the situation well in hand," Chakotay said, laying his hand over hers and squeezing it. "Really."

B'Elanna caught the look the two of them exchanged. She wondered if there was something more going on beneath the surface than their words implied.

Tom had clearly picked up on the slight tension as well. "Well, one advantage to your situation, Captain-being married to someone who's non-Fleet-is that when you *are* called in the middle of the night, you don't have to worry about accidentally picking up the wrong uniform jacket on your way out."

"Like Tom did a week ago when there was some trouble with the navigational array," B'Elanna put in, and chuckled. "I wish I could have seen you on the bridge, valiantly trying to get the jacket closed."

"I must have missed this," Janeway said, amused.

"I'm surprised you even got the jacket on, Tom," Chakotay said. "It's not like you and B'Elanna are anywhere near the same size."

"I didn't try to put it on until I got into the turbolift," Tom said. "When the call came I just grabbed the first jacket I saw and ran." He shook his head slowly. "You should have seen the look on Ishtak's face when the doors opened and he caught sight of me wrestling with the thing. As I walked by to get to my station he remarked he hadn't seen such a performance since Konan the Contortionist when he was a boy."

Everyone laughed appreciatively. "Ishtak's got quite a sense of humor," Chakotay said. "So much for the assumption that all Klingon warriors are grave and reserved."

B'Elanna snorted. "Whoever said that has clearly never seen a bunch of Klingons carousing over a keg of bloodwine."

"But sober, it's another story," Chakotay said. "Have you ever seen Ishtak holding court in the Mess Hall? He really knows how to entertain a crowd. He's got an apparently unlimited supply of stories and jokes."

"We've heard his stories," Tom said, leaning forward. "Well, some of them, at any rate. He's been spending quite a bit of time with Miral over the past few weeks, telling her Klingon legends and such."

"Yes, Miral's taken quite a shine to him," B'Elanna said, idly playing with some crumbs. "He seems to enjoy her company as well."

"Who wouldn't? She's an adorable child," Janeway said warmly.

"And it's nice that she has this connection to Klingon culture," Chakotay added. "There's nothing like learning your people's stories and myths straight from the source."

B'Elanna stiffened. "Yes." She rose abruptly. "Is everybody finished? How about some dessert?"

"Here, let me help you with that," Janeway said as Tom began clearing the plates.

Tom followed B'Elanna to the kitchen alcove. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

B'Elanna busied herself punching in the replicator codes. "I'm fine. Why?"

"I don't know, you just seemed a little...off back there."

"It's nothing." B'Elanna lifted out the cheesecake. "Do me a favor-take this out while I get the coffee."

"Sure," he said. B'Elanna heard the exclamations of delight in the other room that greeted the appearance of dessert. She hesitated for a few moments, and then went out to join them.

* * *

The red alert klaxon switched off abruptly, and the Security Chief's voice came over the comm system. ::Attention all hands. This concludes our security and tactical drill. You may stand down from battle stations. Ishtak out.::

B'Elanna nodded to the engineers of Beta Shift as they resumed their regular stations. She was pleased with the way her people had responded 'under fire', but of course the final consensus would come later when all the performances were evaluated by the captain and first officer.

::Bridge to Engineering.::

"Torres here."

::You'll be interested to know that your department performed very well in the recent drill, Commander,:: said the Captain. ::These are just preliminary results, of course, but according to Ops, Engineering had the highest overall efficiency rating.::

B'Elanna smiled broadly. She knew Janeway was already anticipating mentioning the results to Geordi La Forge and hearing how the Odyssey had stacked up during their own drill. "Thank you, Captain." She gave a thumb's up to her staff. "Good work, everyone!"

A sudden clatter behind her made her jump. Turning, she saw Ensign Murphy's sheepish expression as he bent to pick up his toolkit and collect the scattered tools. She opened her mouth, and then reconsidered what she had been about to say. Even the hapless Ensign hadn't done too badly during the drill. She patted his arm in passing. "Nice job, Murphy. Uh, I mean during the drill, not-"

The disbelieving smile that dawned on his face made B'Elanna feel a bit guilty. Murphy looked as though he'd never heard a compliment before. With a start, she realized he probably never had-at least, not from her. Granted, his work was usually *not* praiseworthy, but that was still no excuse. 'Catch them being good' was a phrase Tom had found in an old 20th century manual on raising children; when you got down to it, training young officers wasn't really much different. Everyone needed to feel appreciated, and it was often more effective in raising performance than simply punishing misdeeds.

"Thank you, Commander!" Murphy said, gesturing so excitedly he nearly dropped his tools once more. "And I promise that next time, I'll do even better!"

"You do that, Ensign," B'Elanna said, wondering if perhaps she should have just left well enough alone. The last thing she needed was for Murphy to try to impress her again...Banishing any further thoughts along those lines, she turned to Nicoletti. "I'm off to pick up my daughter. I'll see you all tomorrow."

"Good night, Commander," Nicoletti said.

Humming under her breath, B'Elanna headed for Sickbay. As was customary, during a red alert-drill or otherwise-Miral stayed in Sickbay, the most secure part of the vessel, under the watchful eye of Tuvok's wife T'Pel, who also doubled as Miral's teacher during less stressful times.

"Mama!" B'Elanna braced herself as a whirlwind of energy tore across the room and into her waiting arms.

"Hello, sweeting! How are you? Were you a good girl during the drill?"

"Yes, I was!" Miral said excitedly, wriggling to get down.

"She was, indeed," added T'Pel as she came over and handed Miral's small backpack to B'Elanna. "We spent a very pleasant 2.7 hours together. We have made further progress in our study of the Terran Standard alphabet. I also believe Miral has several new drawings to show you."

"That's great," B'Elanna said. "I can't wait to see them, Miral."

As Miral pulled out her pictures and explained what they depicted, B'Elanna mouthed "Thank you" in T'Pel's direction.

"There is no need to thank me, Commander," T'Pel said. "She is a bright and imaginative child, and I enjoy spending time with her."

"These are hardly ideal conditions, though," B'Elanna said, thinking back to Voyager's encounter with the planet-eater not too long ago. "Having to deal with her fears during a battle-"

"I wasn't scared, Mama," Miral protested.

"Well, this was just a drill," B'Elanna said, "not a real battle, but-"

"I'm not scared of a real battle."

B'Elanna bent down so her face was level with Miral's. "Remember, honey, we talked about this. That it's OK to be scared. Sometimes during a fight, the ship is going to shake a lot and people are going to get hurt. Maybe even die. But you know Daddy and I-and Captain Janeway-are doing everything we can to keep you safe."

"But if we die, we go to Sto-Vo-Kor," Miral said, drawing the syllables of the name out carefully.

B'Elanna straightened in surprise. "What did you say?"

"If you die in a fight, you get to go to Sto-Vo-Kor and be with Kahless and all the other 'orious dead.'"

"Who's been telling you this?" B'Elanna demanded.

"Ishtak. He said-"

"We'll see about this!" B'Elanna said angrily and prepared to march out the door. T'Pel placed a restraining hand on her arm.

"Commander," the Vulcan woman said quietly. "I am sure Lieutenant Ishtak intended no harm-"

"Telling her stories about Sto-Vo-Kor?" B'Elanna said. "Giving her the impression that it's *good* to be killed in battle, that this is something we should all aspire to?"

"Considering the circumstances in which you are currently bringing up your daughter, it is far from the worst lesson she could be learning," T'Pel said. "We have already been through one very dangerous situation so far, and our journey is only half over. And we have no clear idea what awaits us once we reach the Delta Quadrant."

Unable to argue with such cool logic, B'Elanna nevertheless protested, "But to present it to her like this, as a fairy tale-"

"These are beliefs ingrained in Klingon culture, are they not? It is my impression Lieutenant Ishtak is merely acquainting Miral with a part of her heritage."

"But there are better ways to do so!" B'Elanna snapped.

T'Pel inclined her head. "It is your decision, Commander. She is, after all, your daughter."

"Damn straight she is," B'Elanna said, and tugging on Miral's hand, pulled her down the corridor.

* * *

Despite her fury, B'Elanna hesitated for a moment outside the cabin door before signaling. "Enter," called a deep masculine voice.

Ishtak looked up in surprise when she came in. "Commander Torres, I did not expect to see you. Please, have a seat."

B'Elanna nodded curtly and sat down on the couch, noticing the varied Klingon weapons hanging on the walls. "I want to speak to you about Miral."

"A lovely and precocious child. You are very lucky to have her."

"Yes, I am." B'Elanna took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "But as Miral's mother, she is my responsibility and I don't like the kinds of things you are teaching her."

Ishtak raised a brow in an almost Vulcan manner. "Such as?"

"Those stories you've been telling her. Gre'thor with its fiery rivers and spirits, glorifying being killed in battle-"

Ishtak interrupted. "I also pointed out that one of the lessons Kahless taught is that living well, with honor, is even more important than dying-that life is to be cherished."

"I'm glad to hear it," B'Elanna said sarcastically. "It's good to know Kahless found the time to send a few morally upright messages while he was busy defeating armies single-handedly, slaying and skinning serpents-"

Ishtak's brows drew together in a formidable scowl. "And Terran children's stories contain nothing objectionable? No mentions of children being killed and eaten by witches, or left to fend for themselves alone in a forest?" He drew himself up to his full height. "If it's 'morally upright' messages you're concerned with, what about the tale of how Kahless fought his brother Morath for 12 days and 12 nights because Morath had lied and brought shame to his family? And I also told Miral the story of Kahless using his bat'leth to harvest his father's fields and carve a statue of his beloved." He exhaled sharply. "Contrary to *your* belief, Klingon legends are not all about blood and war."

B'Elanna didn't try to debate the issue. Instead she said, "Look, you may not agree with how I'm raising her, may feel I'm neglecting my child's education and that as a 'real' Klingon you have to step in and rectify the situation." She paused, trying not to say something she would later regret. "But frankly, it's none of your damn business!"

"That's not what I'm trying to do," protested Ishtak. "Believe me, Commander, that was never my intention. Far be it from me to try to interfere with the way you choose to rear your daughter." His air of innocence seemed genuine, but she wasn't ready to believe him.

"Then why do you spend so much time with Miral?" demanded B'Elanna. "Why do you tell her all these stories?"

Ishtak was silent for a moment, as if considering his words. "I like children," he said simply. "I like spending time with Miral." He began to pace, as if he felt constrained within the small space. "Let me tell you a little bit about myself, Commander. My family lived on a small Klingon colony world, Turgon. Perhaps you've heard of it."

"I have," B'Elanna acknowledged. "It's quite a distance from Qo'noS."

He nodded. "Then perhaps you also know that the colony was attacked and destroyed during the war. It happened shortly after my ship was lost-I did not even learn of their deaths until well after the fact, due to my own injuries. By the time I voiced the ritual death howl, their ashes were long since cold and scattered by the wind." He stopped, the pain-even after all these years-still clearly written in his features. "I lost my wife and two children. My son, Krast, had recently undergone his warrior's ceremony. My daughter, Prabsa, was much younger. She was only a little older than your Miral is now." He sighed heavily. "My brother also died that same day, along with his entire family." As if to himself, he added, "My great-uncle, head of the House, is still alive, but he is a widower who lost six sons in the war. The once proud House of Klaa is dying out, I am afraid. I sometimes wonder, once I myself am gone, if there will be anyone left."

"I'm sorry," whispered B'Elanna. "I didn't know."

"So you see, Commander, spending time with Miral helps me see what my own daughter would have been like, lets me imagine the discoveries she'd be making as she learns about the world." He smiled, his eyes lit by some warm memory. "I always used to love stories, sitting at my father's knee hearing the old legends over and over again. I think I enjoyed them even more when the time came for me to pass them on to my own children. Even after Krast had become a man he would still ask me to tell him again about the battle of the Great Hall at Qam-Chee." His eyes met hers. "I have a need to share these tales; in a way it helps me keep the memories of my loved ones alive."

"I can understand," B'Elanna said. Some of the anger she had been feeling drained out of her, and she realized she owed him an apology-and an explanation. "What I said before...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have leaped down your throat like that. It's just when she mentioned Sto-Vo-Kor-something just snapped. The last thing I want is for her to glorify death."

"Would you rather she feared it?"

"No," she said slowly. "No, you're right. Especially considering the potential dangers we're facing."

"It was never my intention to harm her in any way," Ishtak said, his sincerity evident in his voice.

"Your spending time with Miral *has* been beneficial for her," B'Elanna admitted. "And yes, I really should have been teaching my daughter about her Klingon heritage myself. It's just..." she hesitated. "For most of my life I wasn't very comfortable with my Klingon 'self.' Growing up on Kessik was hard, I always felt like an outsider. My mother and I were the only Klingons there. I used to wish I was fully Human, I used to blame my Klingon half for everything that went wrong, like my father leaving us when I was just a young girl." She stopped again. "I was wrong, of course, but it took me a long time to realize that. When I grew old enough to leave home, my mother and I, well, let's just say that that we didn't part on such good terms and for a long time I turned my back on anything Klingon. In fact, it wasn't until recently, when Tom and I went to Qo'noS and I had a chance to become acquainted with my mother's family, that I really felt like I belonged, that I fully accepted both sides of my heritage." She swallowed hard. "It wasn't a conscious decision on my part to emphasize Miral's Terran roots to the exclusion of everything else. I never really thought much about it, it just worked out that way."

"It's only natural," Ishtak said, "considering that Miral's father is Human, and you spend the majority of your time among Humans." He held up his hands. "No criticism intended."

B'Elanna nodded. "None taken. Though perhaps I should have been more aware of what I was teaching her-and what I wasn't." She paused. "So I guess I'm grateful to you, Ishtak, for sharing your stories with her."

"No, it is I who am grateful to you and your husband," Ishtak corrected her, "for allowing me to do this. But if it makes you uncomfortable, if you feel it puts you in an untenable position, I will stop."

"No," B'Elanna said. "Please, don't stop." She added, a bit shyly. "The only thing I ask is, could you tell me some of the tales, too? You see, it's been a very long time since I heard them at my mother's knee..."

FINIS


	3. Something to Remember

**Something to Remember  
****Author: Penny Proctor****  
**

_Spoiler: When Naomi visits the Cochrane Museum of Spaceflight with her friends Icheb and Griff, little did she know she would find "Something to Remember." VS7.5's tribute to the brave men and women of the Shuttle Columbia._

* * *

It was spring on the North American continent of the planet Earth, and there were many places a young cadet with a weekend pass could go to have a little fun. In Naomi Wildman's mind, the Cochrane Museum of Space Flight was not on the list. Unfortunately for her, it was on the top of the list of her two closest friends, Icheb Paris and Griff Harley.

"Aw, come on," Griff had wheedled. "The Phoenix Exhibit will only be open another six weeks. They're going to close it for maintenance for two whole years."

"Maybe we should come back then, when it's all fixed up," she had suggested reasonably.

"In two years, we may well be on training flights and unable to return," Icheb pointed out. "We should go while we have the opportunity. Don't you want to see the first warp ship developed by your people?"

"I've seen pictures," she said. "Since they aren't using engines that can't exceed warp 1 any more, I don't think I need much more than that."

"It'll be fun," Griff insisted.

"It's not even a major museum. If you want to see old stuff, why don't we go to the Museum of Federation History in Paris?"

"Because the Phoenix is in Montana." Icheb studied her for a moment. "If we go to the museum on Saturday, we can still go to Paris on Sunday."

She couldn't come up with a decent objection to that, and so here she was, wandering the aisles of a building filled with obsolete mechanical stuff from the twenty-first century. The building wasn't big, but it was crammed with old engines and engine parts and even cut-open sections of rockets. Rockets! They were wandering on their own, although an elderly docent in a maroon vest had offered to show them around. The boys wanted to take everything in at their own pace. The place was arranged so that Phoenix itself was the culmination of the tour, with everything that Sloan and Cochrane did to develop the warp engine on display first. Griff and Icheb seemed determined to linger over every last little bit of scrap metal that was on display. For five minutes, the boys stood in front of a two-meter cut-away section of some kind of torpedo. Five minutes. Naomi knew, because she timed them.

Finally she said, "Uh, guys? Can we step it up? The Phoenix is waiting."

"Yeah, just a minute," Griff said without looking at her. He pointed to something in the rocket. "But they were still trying hypergolic fuel. See? That has to be the missing chamber."

"Icheb?"

"I thought they had switched to solid propellants," Icheb said.

Naomi frowned. "I'm going to faint now."

"I thought so, too, but how else do you explain-"

"Oh, never mind," Naomi said. Clearly, neither Icheb nor Griff were listening to her. And clearly, they weren't going to cooperate with her plan to move briskly through the exhibits. She shook her head and continued down the aisle.

An arched opening appeared suddenly on her right. It was unmarked and so small she almost missed it, and the room beyond was so dimly lit that she couldn't tell what it held. Still, it was open to the public. Curious, she turned and wandered inside.

The only light in the room was at the back wall. A banner stretched across it, deep blue with gold lettering. "Earth First Reaches for the Stars, 1957 - 2007," it read. Beneath it, something that looked like a cargo barrel made of thin metal sat on a pedestal, illuminated from below. A placard identified it as "Gemini Capsule." Darkened console screens waited for activation along another wall

Naomi frowned. She wasn't the least bit interested in that period. Early warp era was bad enough, but pre-warp space travel was too primitive to be relevant. Maybe an engineering historian-type would be interested, but she preferred the more complex technologies.

As she turned to go, she noticed that one wall was still in shadows. There was something on it, or more precisely, several somethings, but she couldn't tell what they were. Pictures? Wall monitors? Curiosity got the better of her, and she walked over.

She was only a meter from the wall before something finally activated. In the center of the wall, a large panel suddenly lit and became visible. In flowing golden letters, she read, "We know they did not safely return to Earth. We pray they made it safely home."

She had barely finished reading when the wall in front of her suddenly became alive. Beside the panel, a large portrait suddenly appeared, showing a woman with curling brown hair and a warm smile. Beneath the picture, the words "I touch the future, I teach," appeared, only to be replaced by "Christa McAuliffe, 1948-1986. Crew of the Space Shuttle Challenger." The McAuliffe portrait faded, and another appeared on the other side. Another woman, wearing an orange flight suit. "Kalpana Chawla, 1961-2003. Crew of the Shuttle Columbia."

Then another face appeared, that of a young man trying to look older than his years. "Valentin Bondarenko. 1947 – 1961. Soviet 'Sochi Six' Cosmonaut. Test Chamber."

"Ah," said someone standing behind her, and Naomi jumped, startled.

"Computer, pause display. I see you've found the Heroes' Wall."

Turning, Naomi saw she had been joined by the docent they had dismissed earlier. She was almost exactly the same height as Naomi, although her hunched shoulders gave the impression that she had once been taller. "We don't get many cadets wandering in here," the woman went on. "It's not very glamorous."

"It's hard to find," Naomi said. "I almost missed it."

The old woman nodded. "I know. It's just a small corner of history. In the grand scheme of things, fifty years is nothing. And yet – " She turned around slowly, her arms taking in the entire room.. "In 1957, humankind had never left the planet. The steam engine had been around for only a hundred and fifty years or so, the combustion engine a little less than a century, and flight had been achieved exactly fifty-four years earlier. Walk around this room and consider everything they accomplished in just fifty years."

Naomi smiled, and touched the patch on her uniform. "Ex astris, scientia." It was the motto of Starfleet Academy,

"*From* the stars, knowledge." The docent regarded her soberly. "But back then, back when all this was new, the motto was 'Ad astra per aspera.' * To* the stars, through our endeavors." She paused, then added, "That's what this room is about - the endeavors that let us get to the stars in the first place. And that wall is about the people who paid the ultimate price to get us there."

"They died?" Naomi asked, turning back to the wall. It was still paused on the portrait of Valentin Bondarenko.

"Yes. This young man – he was just 24 years old – died when he was trapped in a fire in a test chamber. Although he himself never made it into space, his colleagues did-because of what was learned from his death.." The docent looked thoughtfully at the picture. "Each of them died in the active service of their space program. Some died on the ground, some overhead, but each of them died for the same reason – they were reaching for the stars." Then she gently touched the patch on Naomi's sleeve. "And because they did, you wear this motto without a second thought. You know, I think that would please them."

"They were three brave people," Naomi said quietly.

"Oh, my dear. There were more than three. Computer, resume display."

As Naomi turned, the image of Bondarenko faded and was replaced by an older, dark-haired man. "Virgil 'Gus' Grissom 1926-1967. Mercury 2. Gemini 3. Apollo 1."

One after another, the pictures appeared, then faded away. Michael Smith. Judith Resnick. William McCool. Viktor Patsayev. Francis Scobee. Roger Chaffee. Ronald McNair. Georgi Dobrovolsky. Laurel Clark. Each name was associated with a mission. Apollo 1. Soyuz 1. Challenger. Soyuz 11. Columbia.

And still the pictures came. Edward White. Ellison Onizuka. Michael Anderson. Vladislav Volkov. David Brown. Gregory Jarvis. Vladamir Komarov. Rick Husband. Ilan Ramon.

The last image faded away, as did the central panel. After a moment's darkness, a final panel appeared in the center of the wall, with nothing but words.

– – _Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth  
_– – _And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;  
_– – _Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth  
_– – _Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things  
_– – _You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung  
_– – _High in the sunlit silence.  
_– – _Hov'ring there, I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung  
_– – _My eager craft through footless halls of air.  
_– – _Up, up the long, delirious burning blue,  
_– – _I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace  
_– – _Where never lark, or even eagle flew.  
_– – _And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod  
_– – _The high untresspassed sanctity of space,  
_– – _Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.__  
_

– – – – _RCAF Flight-Lieutenant John Gillespie Magee Jr. (1922-1941). _

The words faded slowly, turning a soft gold before disappearing. It was only when she stood alone in the shadows that Naomi realized there were tears running down her cheeks. She wiped them away, and turned to speck to the docent, but discovered she was alone.

She looked around, but there was no sign of the docent. The room was

again dark and still.

After a moment, Naomi walked through the archway back into the main room. Icheb and Griff had made it exactly one exhibit further than when she had left them. "Hey, guys," she called. "Come on down here."

"What did you find?" Griff asked, with a teasing grin. "The head?" She shook her head. "No. It's … it's something I think you should see. Something to remember."

* * *

_-Written on February 1-2, 2002 and dedicated to the memory of the men and women of the Space Shuttle Columbia - _


	4. Vissi d'Arte

**Vissi d'Arte**  
**by Christina**

_Spoiler: Mark Zimmerman is looking forward to some golf in Holodeck 2. What he finds instead is something much more glorious._

* * *

Doctor Mark Zimmerman nodded as he checked the time. Twenty-three hundred hours. Exactly. Time for a little golf. "Computer transfer EMH to holodeck two."

He reappeared and frowned. Then rechecked the time. One minute after the hour. The holodeck was in use-and whoever was here had rudely overstayed his or her time. He noted the simple theater and the fact he was in wings. He started to call out, but stopped, transfixed, as music filled the hall.

He recognized the music, it was from the second act of Tosca. A soprano joined in. A glorious sound. Curiosity drove him forward. Who else on the crew shared his love of opera? Who had such a voice? He stopped to enjoy the swelling music as an anguished character sang about how cruelly fate has treated her; how she had devoted her life to art, love, and prayer. He let the music wash over him. Then it was over.

"Bravo," he called out after a second of silence. Then he repeated the bravo. A woman appeared in the darkness.

"Doctor? Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I must have forgot to set the timer. Forgive me, please?"

"Ensign Stevens?" He hesitated. The young, dark haired woman stumbled as she started to gather up her stuff. "No, please, don't go. Where did you learn to sing? That was divine."

"I had lessons." She dropped her towel. "I'm so sorry. You won't report me for cutting into your holodeck time?"

He smiled. "Only if you sing for me, again."

She stared at him. "What?"

"Sing...You know, encore! Encore!"

"You really think I'm good?"

"So good, that I want to ask, what are you doing in Starfleet?"

"Tradition," Ensign Marie Stevens glanced at the floor. "There wasn't much choice, since my third great grandfather was Vice Admiral Cutler: all the family have chosen careers in Starfleet."

"And what did you want?"

She smiled. "My teacher said I needed to chose between singing and science. My family has already decided." She again glanced at the floor. "What do you want me to sing?"

He hesitated, there were so many choices. "Sempre Libera."

"Traviatta it is." She ordered the orchestra to play, then she joined in.

The Doctor stood, entraced.

The End


	5. Traditions Part 1

**Traditions  
A Reconstruction Blues Interlude  
by Julie**

_Author's notes: This story takes place near the end of the "Reconstruction Blues" period. The correct pronunciation of Pojza is "Poy-zha." Thank you to my co-writers at Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 for another year of great enjoyment! And thank you to Christina and Janet for their beta assistance on this story._

* * *

**New Pojza-Year 2,  
Day 238. Earth-Dec 24, 2380. Galactic Stardate—57985.4.  
On New Pojza, in the Delta Quadrant:**

The woods were quiet as Annika followed the path that led away from one of New Pojza's shires-the small villages originally settled by the Pojzan refugees. Most of the Pojzan still maintained sleeping rooms underground in the rocky bluff adjacent to the shire, even though the threat of radiation from the nearby nebula had been eliminated with the installation of the planetary radiation shield several months earlier. The newer colonists, most of them former Borg, had settled among the Pojzan, building houses next to the shire, or in the wooded area just beyond as Axum and she had done. The walk home was short, no more than three or four minutes, but Annika enjoyed the brief solitude, perhaps because it was so brief.

Her life was busy and productive, which suited her. She was needed here, as was everyone. There were many responsibilities on a new colony planet, and she worked with a team of engineers, both Pojzan and former Borg colonists. She had helped design the radiation shield, and was involved in a dozen more engineering projects in progress. Yet that was not her only role here. She was also a teacher.

It had been Selea, her Betazoid friend, who had convinced Annika of that unexpected aptitude. Selea had been a teacher and child psychologist before her assimilation. Like many others, on New Pojza she had elected to return to her former profession, willingly relegating the disciplines of hard science and engineering to those who had followed that calling even before being forced into it by the Borg. And to those, like Annika, who had been assimilated too young to know any other way.

But Selea had also insisted Annika reach into herself to discover the untapped talents and strengths of her human heritage. Annika had connected with some of the children here who'd been so lost after being freed from the Collective, able to draw from her own experience, and from her time with Icheb, Mezoti and the twins. She had tutored the children on Voyager seeing it as no more than another duty Captain Janeway had assigned to her. But Selea's persistence had led her to the realization that she had a unique ability to relate to children, and to teach them. Even more surprising was the realization that she enjoyed it immensely. Each afternoon she taught them the fundamentals of mathematics and science, while also offering requested guidance and support to those still coming to terms with their newfound individuality.

The thinning of pine trees told Annika that she was approaching her home, and Axum's. The trees on New Pojza were smaller and shorter than the pine talltrees Axum recalled from his home planet, but he had been attracted by their similarity. Upon seeing these woods Annika had recalled fragmented memories of the pine forests of Scandinavia, where she had spent time as a very young child with her parents and aunt. This area had seemed an auspicious place for their new home.

The house they had built together also united their memories of their pre-Borg existence, and, in her case, her life on Voyager. The great "gathering" room contained the traditional central circular fireplace of a Drasadi home, with low, curved sofas surrounding it, their soft cushions inviting repose around the fire. The bedroom they shared was furnished in a manner reminiscent of her aunt's home-as well as Annika could recall it-with a wide bed and tall bureau. The kitchen was more functional, based closely on the mess hall of Voyager, as it had become with Neelix's "refinements."

As a whole, the design of their house was an eclectic, even chaotic, mix of styles. Despite its lack of harmonious aesthetics, the sight of the wide windows and sloping roof always warmed Annika when the house came into view. She stepped into the clearing and her lips curved into a small smile as she anticipated her quiet, companionable evening with Axum. Then she stopped, her mouth dropping slightly open in surprise at the sight that greeted her.

Half a dozen pine trees grew close around the house, with the largest and fullest one standing in front, separated from the others as if aware of its more noble status. At the moment its entire five meter height was illuminated with hundreds of colored lights-red, green, blue and yellow-their brightness piercing the deep twilight afforded by the clouds obscuring the great nebula that stretched overhead. On the topmost branch was a brilliantly lit white star.

Annika stared at the tree for several moments, transfixed, before she continued forward. Though the windows of the house glowed with warm light, Axum was outside on the akeva-or verandah, as it was called on Earth. He was holding two mugs in his hands. Steam rose from both in white wisps that dispersed into the chilly air.

Annika stepped onto the akeva and lifted one eyebrow, her silent version of "explain"-or, "this had better be good," as Axum had once laughingly put it. The gesture always brought a twitch to Axum's lips, though she did not quite understand the perceived humor.

His lips twitched now as he handed her one of the mugs. She wrapped her hands around it, relishing the warmth. The steam wafted toward her face, and she could smell the unmistakable scents of cinnamon and cloves, and something stronger.

"It is Glogg," Axum said. "A traditional drink in the Scandinavian region of Earth, typically imbibed on this date. I found the recipe in the Voyager database. I hope I got it right."

Upon her departure from Voyager Captain Janeway had presented Annika with several items, including a replicator, and a set of datachips containing the entire cultural database of the Federation as well as everything the Voyager crew had compiled on the Delta Quadrant during their journey. That had included Neelix's extensive recipe collection. She took an experimental sip of the hot liquid, and her eyes widened. It was quite potent.

"The original recipe contains alcohol, but this version does not, nor does it contain synthehol," Axum said, aware of her inability to tolerate either well. "I approximated the chemical composition and flavor."

"It is...interesting," Annika said, cautiously taking another sip. She decided Axum's approximation must be close, because the drink delivered a "kick," as Lieutenant Paris might have put it. She could not comment on the authenticity of the beverage, since she had been a young child the last time she'd been on Earth, and would not have partaken of an alcoholic beverage. She focused on another subject instead. "The tree is beautiful."

Axum beamed at her compliment, which was why Annika had offered it. The tree was aesthetically pleasing, but not as pleasing as Axum's gratified expression.

"When I realized this was the most important holiday in your home region on Earth, I researched everything I could find out about it." Axum waved his free hand toward the tree. "I wanted to surprise you."

"You succeeded," Annika assured him. She had been aware of the date on Earth, as her sense of time was remarkably accurate. She was also aware of the significance of the date, though that significance was more relevant to some of her former Voyager crewmates than it was to her, especially now that they were back in the Alpha Quadrant.

"It's not just this tree," Axum said, smiling expectantly. "There is more inside."

In Drasadi tradition there were no coverings over the windows of the great room, and Annika looked through the clear glass, noticing for the first time that a fire was blazing in the central fireplace. That was not unusual, but just visible beyond the surrounding sofas stood a pine tree, much smaller than the majestic one outside, its branches thick and unadorned. On the varnished wood floor next to the tree was a pile of brightly colored ribbons and paper, along with some shiny red items she could not immediately identify, though she assumed they were ornaments. She wondered how Axum could have possibly arranged all this without her knowledge-

"That tree we can decorate together," Axum said. "It is traditional to do so on Christmas Eve. I decided on the red ornaments because that is the main color of a Scandinavian Christmas. Appropriate, don't you think?"

Annika started to reply, but her nose wrinkled as a suspicious aroma reached her, overriding the spices in the Glogg and the ever-present scent of pine. "Do I smell something...burning?"

"Oh!" Axum set his cup of Glogg on the railing. "Wait here!"

Annika considered following Axum into the house, but he emerged again less than a minute later with a sheepish look on his face. "That batch is a little well done," he said. "But don't worry, the other three batches turned out perfect."

"Batches?" Annika asked.

"Of almond horn cookies. I haven't gotten to the gingerbread yet. Neelix had quite a number of Christmas recipes. Oh, and I also downloaded a music file called 'Neelix's Christmas Carols, One.' There were several additional files-two through sixteen-but I thought this one might suffice."

Annika watched, bemused, as Axum activated the remote audio controller. She recalled Neelix's enthusiasm for all holidays, and the fact that when he undertook a project, he completed it with exhaustive detail. Apparently Axum was the same. Strains of music drifted from the outside speakers, and she recognized the tune about a one horse open sleigh riding through the snow. She shook her head. "Axum, this is...remarkable. But it wasn't necessary for you to go to all this trouble-

"Of course it was," Axum said. "Now that we've all settled in, we've agreed that it's important to revive some of our native traditions."

He was referring to the now nearly three thousand former drones who had found a home here among the Pojzan. During the first year they had focused primarily on erecting permanent homes and community structures, increasing food production, and assisting new colonists as they arrived in both Pojzan and non-Pojzan ships, often low on supplies and damaged from clashes with renegade Borg ships and other local pirates. In recent months the arrivals had dwindled to a trickle, and life for the colonists had settled into a more normal routine. With that, the former drones from a dozen different worlds had began to follow the example of the Pojzan, reviving cultural customs and traditions they recalled from the days before they had been assimilated. The Borg might have ripped them from their original homes, and in some cases destroyed those homes, as Evrim-one of Axum's fellow Drasadi-had noted, but the Borg couldn't destroy their customs and traditions as long as they remembered.

"Annika." Axum's hand brushed hers. "You helped me perform the rituals of the Drasadi Rite of Autumn Harvest. I wanted to do the same in return, even if you didn't ask me to share this with you."

Annika sensed the slightest rebuke in Axum's tone. She stiffened. "I wish to share all my life with you, Axum. We are planning Prixin together, are we not?"

"Yes. I do look forward to celebrating Prixin with you, Annika, and with most of the shire." His lips quirked. "Thanks to you and the Talaxians it will probably become the first fully shared holiday on New Pojza."

That was Annika's desire. The dozen or so Talaxians now residing in the First Shire had celebrated the Prixin holiday the previous year in abbreviated fashion, and many of the Pojzan, who venerated family and enjoyed celebrations with the same ardor as Talaxians, had asked to join the Prixin celebration that would begin in another two weeks. It seemed appropriate, since that holiday had become symbolic to her of disparate people joining together in the Delta Quadrant and forging common bonds.

"I also know Prixin became a tradition on Voyager," Axum said. "But it is a Talaxian holiday, not an Earth holiday."

Annika frowned. "I understand your desire to recapture traditions, Axum, but I do not remember Earth as you do Drasada."

Axum nodded, his blue eyes sympathetic. "I know you were very young when you were assimilated, but your culture-the culture of your parents and your ancestors-it is part of what makes you you. What makes Annika Hansen a unique individual. It may have been buried for a time by the Borg, but they couldn't take away your birthright, or those first years and all your parents instilled in you."

"I had not considered it in that light," Annika admitted. She was aware that early childhood was the most impressionable period of development and socialization. She didn't doubt that parts of her personality-like the uncommon stubbornness Axum sometimes accused her of-had come from her parents, even if she could barely remember them. She did value her few childhood memories, but though she had tried with limited success to overcome the Borg desire for perfection in all endeavors, the incompleteness of her conscious recall was often a source of frustration. But for Axum, she would try.

"I do remember some things," she said. She looked at the tree Axum had decorated, and saw a tree in a cozy wood-paneled room that had seemed to her young eyes immense in size, though it had certainly been much smaller than this one now in front of her. "I remember a tree with twinkling lights, but I do not know if it was at my parent's home or at my aunt's. I also remember gathering pine cones with my father-" For a moment she could hear the sound of her father's booming laugh echoing in the forest stillness as she stomped in the snow, trying to match the deep prints made by his booted feet with her own much smaller snow boots.

Another image came to her, one she'd seen before, of her mother bending over her, golden hair shining, and blue eyes soft with emotion as she stroked her daughter's brow. "I remember my mother singing a Christmas carol to me. It was called 'Silent Night'..."

Axum immediately picked up the audio remote and activated the viewscreen. He scrolled through the titles until he found the right one. A moment later the music changed, and a female voice began to sing in a clear soprano, "Silent night, holy night..."

They listened for several minutes. Like much of her childhood Annika had so far recalled, this small bit of her memory had resurfaced on Voyager, during a Christmas Eve gathering Tom Paris had arranged in a simulated mountain lodge on the holodeck.

"Christmas must have been celebrated on Voyager," Axum said, as if he had read her thoughts. "Most of the crew was human."

"Not all humans celebrate Christmas," Annika replied. "But on Voyager, quite a few observed the holiday."

"Did you?"

Axum knew she had held herself apart from the rest of those on Voyager at first, preferring to focus on her duty and disdaining activities that were unproductive. Holiday celebrations had been no exception. She had found them to be frivolous, and a waste of resources. Christmas had been even more incomprehensible to her than most holidays. The history of the holiday was filled with inconsistencies, from the conflicting mix of religious origins in many of the traditions and the later addition of secular icons, to its eventual transformation into a time to gather in social communion and celebrate peaceful accord on Earth regardless of one's devotion to the original religious observance.

"I did not participate immediately," Annika finally said. "The second year I was on Voyager Naomi Wildman insisted that I assist her and Neelix in decorating the mess hall."

"So you've been holding out on me!" Axum accused, though he was smiling. "You do know how to 'trim' a tree."

"I only observed that process," Annika said. She had also suggested using half the available ornaments and placing them exactly two point six centimeters apart from each other in all directions to achieve optimal balance and symmetry, but Neelix had scoffed at that suggestion, allowing Naomi to place all the ornaments in spots of her own choosing. Once the heaping globs of tinsel were tossed on, the finished tree had looked lopsided and garish. Yet there had been something appealing about it, and in Naomi's proud smile at her handiwork. "That Christmas I joined in watching Naomi open her gifts from everyone, and eventually I began attending some of the holiday functions organized by Neelix and others. Naomi's enthusiasm and the enjoyment the crew found in such rituals did allow me to see that there were...emotionally satisfying aspects to such traditional celebrations."

"Why am I not surprised you learned that message from a child?" Axum asked gently.

"I have found that children teach as often as they learn," Annika said. Naomi had taught her much, as had Icheb and the other children on Voyager. She looked inadvertently up at the sky, though there was nothing to see but clouds.

"On Earth right now it is Christmas Eve," Axum said, seeming to read her thoughts again. "I suppose many of your friends from Voyager are celebrating there."

"On some parts of Earth it is Christmas Day," Annika corrected him. "And not everyone from Voyager presently resides on Earth."

Axum shrugged, and smiled. "Close enough, considering."


	6. Traditions Part 2

**Traditions**

Considering their distance from the Alpha Quadrant, Annika thought. Five months ago she had received a message from Harry Kim. The Enterprise had been on a long range mission, and Harry had found a way to access the datastream for a brief time. Thus she had learned of Voyager's safe return to Earth, which had pleased her, though she'd expected that the determination of the crew would eventually lead to that result. She had learned of the attendant honors and parades, as well as Captain Janeway's hearing and acquittal. In some ways she was gratified that the captain had subsequently taken a teaching position, for it gave her a sense of commonality with her former mentor, even though she believed Kathryn Janeway was most suited to commanding a starship. She was also gratified that the captain had finally acknowledged her feelings for Commander Chakotay-ex-Commander, that is, since Chakotay had left Starfleet to pursue his doctorate, as Tuvok had left to reunite with his family on Vulcan. Neither development had surprised her.

Harry had also informed her that construction was beginning on a second ship to be called Voyager, and that Lieutenant Commander Torres continued to pursue a working transwarp coil at Utopia Planitia, where she had relocated with Lieutenant Paris and their daughter. Given B'Elanna Torres's remarkable tenacity, Annika was certain she would succeed sooner or later. At that point, the distances between the Delta Quadrant and the Alpha Quadrant would become relative.

"Naomi may be decorating a tree right now," Axum mused.

"Perhaps so," Annika said, though Naomi would not be with her parents. According to Harry, Sam Wildman and her husband had gone on a yearlong mission to the Gamma Quadrant, while Naomi had remained at Starfleet Academy. Naomi would likely be with Icheb, probably at the Paris home, which was also Icheb's home now.

"You miss them sometimes." It was a statement rather than a question, and Axum's expression was empathetic. "If the transwarp project is successful you may see them again in the not very distant future."

"I will be gratified if that occurs," Annika said. Her Glogg had gone cold, and she placed her cup on the railing, then crossed her arms tightly and suppressed a shiver. The air was getting colder. "In the meantime, I am content here."

Axum immediately wrapped his arms around her. "Perhaps we should go in," he suggested.

Annika snuggled against Axum. Though it was a less efficient method of heat conduction than adding layers of clothing or retreating indoors and setting the thermostat to a suitable temperature, it was infinitely more pleasurable. "Let's stay out here a few more minutes," she murmured, as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I am warm now, and still content."

Axum chuckled softly, and Annika raised her head. She pressed her lips briefly against his, silencing his mirth. "If I have not yet said thank you for doing this-"

"You just did."

Annika smiled, and brushed a small bit of lint of his dark jacket. Another speck appeared near the same spot, and she realized it wasn't lint. She raised her head and stared up at the sky. Scattered white flakes of snow fell from the near total darkness of the cloud cover, floating softly and silently to the ground. Though they had experienced icy rains here last winter this was the first time for snow.

"Snow," Axum said with astonishment as he held out his hand and watched several flakes land lightly on his palm. Then he looked at her mischievously. "It is an important element of a traditional Christmas, is it not?"

Annika scoffed at Axum's insinuation that he had manufactured a natural occurrence. It was a mere coincidence that snow was falling in conjunction with the current date on Earth, particularly since New Pojza orbited its sun in only three hundred and twelve days. Next year on the Earth date of December 24 it would already be early spring here. Yet Annika couldn't help a small sense of wonder at the sight.

Momentarily enthralled, they watched the snow falling on the ground, and clinging to the branches of the pines. They both became aware at the same time of the two figures walking out of the woods. Annika recognized Selea immediately, and as they moved closer, the smaller, slighter figure walking next to her. Talya, one of the children they taught.

"Selea," Axum greeted the dark-haired woman. "It's a little cold to be walking out here tonight."

Selea shrugged. "I grew up in the mountains. I'm used to cold and snow."

Talya's eyes had been on the falling snow, her expression as awed as Axum's, until she noticed the decorated pine tree.

"A Christmas tree," Selea said, her gaze on the tree also. "I remember seeing those in San Francisco. I always thought it was a lovely tradition. Talya, Christmas is an Earth holiday. That's where Annika comes from, in the Alpha Quadrant."

"Is it like Prixin?" Talya asked.

"It is similar in that family and community are integral to the celebration," Selea said.

"And the music is part of the celebration also?"

A low rendition of "Silver Bells" spilled out from the speakers. "Yes," Annika answered and her eyes met Talya's. The girl quickly averted her gaze, staring at the ground, her heavy auburn hair falling over her face. "What has happened?" Annika asked, seeing Talya's sudden consternation, and curious to know why Selea had come here tonight when her home was on the other side of the shire.

"Talya got into a fight with Dustan and Zirel," Selea said. "They were teasing her."

Talya was one of the brightest children in the First Shire, but she could also be quick-tempered. Like Dustan and Zirel, she was nearing puberty. Annika had learned from her association with Naomi that that phase of development was rife with insecurities, in Talya's case exacerbated by her struggle to adapt to her individuality after being assimilated as a toddler.

"Physical altercations are not the way to settle disagreements," Annika told Talya.

Talya's green eyes flashed. "They called me 'stupid.' I am not stupid!"

"Certainly not," Annika agreed. "To come to such an insupportable conclusion indicates that their intelligence is vastly inferior to yours. Knowledge of your superiority should negate any need or desire to fight with those less worthy than you."

Talya looked thoughtful at that, and Axum said, "I don't know about Zirel, since he is Norcadian, but Dustan is Drasadi, and when a Drasadi boy calls a girl 'stupid,' it's a certain sign that he likes her."

"It is?" Talya asked. Then she snorted. "That's a silly way to show it."

"Children are inherently irrational," Annika said. "Particularly boys."

Axum gave her a sideways look as Selea chuckled. Annika had no factual foundation for that statement, but she had learned that such provocative statements often elicited an enjoyably spirited debate with her mate.

"After the altercation, I suggested Talya might want to visit and spend the night, to put some distance between her and the boys. But I don't want to interrupt your celebration-"

"Nonsense," Axum said to Selea. "Talya is welcome to stay and celebrate with us." He smiled at the girl. "We still have to decorate the tree inside, and bake more cookies."

"I don't know anything about decorating a tree," Talya said, though she looked eager to learn.

"I'm just learning myself," Axum assured her. "It's an old holiday on Earth, but for our family it's a new tradition. And you can be part of it." Talya's face lit up. "I can?"

"Of course. Why don't we go in and get started right now. You can help me put in the next batch of cookies."

Talya practically ran up the akeva steps as Axum's eyes met Annika's. He leaned over and brushed his lips across hers. "We'll be inside, starting Christmas. See you in a minute."

"Merry Christmas to you, Axum," Selea said with a twinkle in her eyes.

Axum grinned. "And to you, Selea."

"I think Talya is almost ready to be part of a family," Selea said as she watched Axum disappear into the house with Talya.

"Perhaps," Annika said. She had not missed Talya's delight at Axum's invitation to join in the holiday celebration. Most of the children rescued from the Borg had originally been housed together to alleviate the sense of isolation that was often overwhelming after being severed from the Collective. As they'd regained their sense of individuality, some had bonded with adults in the shire and had been adopted into more traditional family units. Not all of the children wished for this outcome, since they still drew support from each other, but many did with time.

"Talya has only been here six months," she added. Six months after she'd been severed from the Collective, Annika had still been confused and uncomfortable with her individuality. She could not even think of herself as simply Seven, but clung to her identity as Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix One.

"Everyone adjusts at a different pace," Selea said. "She has begun to celebrate her independence, and to form strong bonds with adults."

"She has formed one with you," Annika said.

Selea nodded. "She has. She feels close to you as well. And she likes Axum. No doubt Talya would be a challenge. She is intelligent and resourceful, but she is also obstinate and certain that she is always right. She reminds me of someone."

Annika saw the shrewd look in Selea's eyes. "Perhaps it is Axum."

Selea laughed. "It's not Axum. Anyway, it was just a thought. I have to go. Evrim is expecting me, and I'm already late." She grinned at Annika's raised eyebrow. "I know, three nights in one week. It could be getting serious. No classes tomorrow, so I'll see you the next day. Oh, and Merry Christmas."

Selea was moving away as she spoke, and Annika barely had time to wave to her before the Betazoid disappeared into the trees. Annika looked back at the open door. Inside it looked warm and inviting, and over the low music she could hear Talya's burst of laughter coming from the kitchen. She wondered what Axum would think of Selea's not very subtle suggestion. Though they had discussed having a baby should her fertility be restored, they had not yet considered adopting a child here, to raise and parent as their own.

Perhaps they had simply been waiting for the right child to join their family. That was an intriguing thought, and one worthy of further consideration. She suspected Axum would agree. She would bring the subject up after they had settled Talya into the second bedroom for the night.

Smiling, Annika started to enter the house. Then she stopped and looked up at the sky. The snow continued to fall in the same slow pattern, and if one was imaginative one could perceive the snowflakes as falling stars. She was not imaginative. It was simply snow, and beyond that the glowing gases of the nebula. Much further, through thousands of light years of Delta Quadrant space, beyond the galactic center, and past thousands of more light years of Alpha Quadrant space, was the Federation, where those from Voyager now resided.

It was Christmas on Earth, and to those who had dispersed from there to other parts of the galaxy. Though she wasn't imaginative, she could deduce most likely scenarios, and Annika considered them now.

Kathryn Janeway was with Chakotay, probably sitting together in front of a fire at their apartment in San Francisco, drinking hot coffee-the real thing-as carols played in the background, and smiling at each other as they were apt to do. Tuvok was on Vulcan, not celebrating the Earth holiday but no doubt mindful of it after his long association with humans, celebrating instead each day with the family he had been separated from for eight years.

Harry Kim was on the Enterprise, perhaps at a crew party, one similar to those that had transpired on Voyager, enjoying laughter and music with his new crewmates while thinking fondly of his old ones.

Neelix and Sarexa, though not native of Earth, would have adopted the customs of their new home, as Neelix readily adopted the customs of all those he called friends. Their doors were open, as they happily entertained those who came to view the most ostentatiously decorated home in New Orleans.

Meanwhile, the doctor-or Mark Lewis, as he now called himself-was bickering good-naturedly with his creator, Lewis Zimmerman, over any aspect of the holiday that might come up for discussion, with Reg Barclay and Lewis's protégé Haley mediating, sometimes exasperated but all putting up with each other willingly nonetheless.

As for Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres, they were sharing in their young daughter's delight at the bright lights and decorations, helping her place ornaments on the tree, introducing her to their traditions. Sharing the moment were Tom's parents, and Icheb, abandoned by his birth parents but now surrounded and welcomed by his adoptive family. A family defined by its ability to expand and include others in its embrace, like Naomi. That was the best definition of a family she could think of.

Annika smiled, unembarrassed by her musings, or by her next words. "Merry Christmas," she said softly to the sky, and to those she was sure she would see again one day. Then she walked through the door, to her own family.

Inside the house the fire flickered and the warm light enveloped the occupants as they celebrated Christmas in the Delta Quadrant, combining old traditions with new. Outside the lights of the decorated tree illuminated the snow as it drifted down, and the words of a song floated from over the white-covered ground...

"...Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow. Hang a shining star upon the highest bow, and have yourself a merry little Christmas now."

Finis.

* * *

_A message to our readers:_

_From the Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 team to you and your friends and families-Merry Christmas, Happy Prixin, and may you find joy and togetherness in all the holidays and traditions you celebrate._


End file.
